Under The Sheets
by Depraved Doll
Summary: This Castiel is so different from the one he's used to, he's human and broken and Dean can't stand the idea that he's lost his faith, but maybe Cas still has belief in his hunter even now... DxC


**Under the sheets **

**Disclaimer- **_Not mine, if they were I definitely wouldn't have written that Castiel kiss Meg in the new series... I mean... come on? How OOC is that? Doesn't even make any sense... she's a skank... ew, Ruby was way better...uh so yeah rant over and uh not mine..._

**Rating- **_M... mature content... ^^_

**Summary- **_This Castiel is so different from the one he's used to, he's human and broken and Dean can't stand the idea that he's lost his faith, but maybe Cas still has belief in his hunter even now... DxC_

_Ok so I always wanted to write a fic based off the Croatoan ep and considering I watched it again recently I felt it was time, _

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Quiet contemplation finds him for the first time in what feels like years, his fingers are steeped, his head bowed as if in prayer, eyes staring at the mottled wood beneath his elbows as if it had the answers to his questions burned into the varnish. His doppelganger is watching him and it's unnerving and confusing and he doesn't want to think about any of it. His thoughts keep straying to Castiel, to the twisted, tortured version of the angel that struggles to keep his place in this new and unfamiliar territory. He glances up at his future self, all hatred and regret and some hideous form of self worth and idolisation, he would never treat people like this, he hopes he would never treat Cas like he does here.

"What?" his future self barks, he's cleaning a gun, heavy boots thrown up atop the table, eyes deadly and dark, he glances his younger self over. "You should have Castiel take a look at that wound," he nods in the direction of the gash in his shirt and it doesn't slip Dean's notice that it's Castiel not Cas.

"What, so he's resident medic as well?"

"I had to find some use for him," it's callous and harsh and Dean hates the sound of the words the instant they flood into the open, he glares at his future self, rises from his seat and grips the front of his jacket,

"It's your fault he's like this, no one else's," he's never been so mad, there's a danger in his grip and he wenches it away from the front of the other's jacket, refuses to pass him a second look as he leaves the room slamming the door with all the force he can muster.

He stalks the darkened camp, Chuck is sat around a fire with a couple of girls, there's some men drinking beer over by the ruined Impala, guns in hand, eyes alert despite the alcohol, the watchmen of the night. There's laughter from some cabins, silence from others, he thinks of everyone here, how many people they've lost, he thinks about Bobby, how he obviously had failed him, about Sam and how he'd let him down, ultimately how he'd forced Cas into such an unfitting way of life, it may have been war but that doesn't stop him from being human.

He finds himself stood outside of Castiel's cabin sometime in the next hour, he knocks but there's no answer, slips into the darkened room with almost silent footsteps, the angel is lying with his back to him, there's a busted up iPod lying beside him throwing out a mix of classic and more modern rock, he smirks at the idea of it. He studies the angel for a while, the old blanket covering his legs, the shirt that's slightly too big, this Cas is dishevelled, his skin holds a slight glow, touched by the skin, his hair's longer, tumbles into his eyes, still too blue.

"Cas," he mumbles because he figures it's a bit weird to stand and stare at him for any longer, the other doesn't respond and he clears his throat, still failing to earn a response. He sighs runs a hand through his hair and takes the ten steps over to the bunk of the cabin, his hand falls on the other's shoulder, shakes slightly, and a grip tightens around his wrist that shocks him with the force. "Hey, it's me," he states, waiting for the slightly wild eyes to calm, he's trying not to read too much into that, the angel relinquishes his hold, yawns and sits up on his bunk glancing up at the other with a questioning look. "What?"

"Why are you here Dean?" he runs a hand through jet black hair, ruffling the slight wave, he looks tired in more ways than one.

"Uh our great leader suggested I get you to check this out," he uses air quotes and then gestures to the slash in his shirt, pulling his jacket back just enough.

"How did you do that?" he asks, leaning back on the bunk with eyebrow raised just so,

"A kid in the city when I got here, she had some glass, lucky swipe," Cas chuckles and sighs gestures for him to take off the jacket, the hunter gives him a strange look.

"I can't heal you with a flick of my wrist, its good old fashioned needle and thread chuckles," he opens the drawer to the side cabinet, a beat up old first aid kit slides out and is dropped on the bunk beside him. "Well?" Dean sighs and slips off his jacket, chucking it over the end of the bed; he lifts up his shirt and Castiel shifts forward, he touches around the edge of the wound and Dean hisses and glares at him, the angel smirks. "Don't be such a baby," he works quickly, cleaning the wound and pulling a few remaining shards of glass from the injury, he numbs it, stitches and places a bandage over the top.

"Well thanks nurse Castiel; you've done a great job,"

"You're not funny, you were never funny," Dean rolls his eyes

"You just never understood my jokes, I'm very funny," he collapses beside his companion sprawled across the bunk and Castiel shakes his head leaning back against the wall himself. "You know Cas for what it's worth, I'm sorry," blue eyes simply stare at him, they're searching studying him,

"It's my actions that led me here Dean no one else's," he stands heads over to the cooler in the corner and grabs a couple of beers, throwing one to the hunter before opening his own. Dean's eyes are studying him again, watching as he sips the beer, chapped lips closing around the bottle top, he's still perfect even in this dishevelled self loathing state, Castiel could never be anything other than amazing.

"Well, I'm sorry for the way he treats you, I wouldn't..."

"It's different Dean, different to what you think, the world is falling apart and no one can stop it, not even you," there's such a conviction behind it and the look of a man that understands his days are numbered. He's surprised looking at his angel now because there's not a scrap of faith left in Cas, not for God, not for him, for nothing, he seems empty, broken and in the comedown from the drugs, he's lonely and hollow, useless and unforgiving.

They drink in silence; just the slight hum of the music from that beat up iPod and Castiel taps his fingers to the beat.

"You know you're better than all this Cas," it's almost nothing more than a whisper, blue eyes shift to him, confused and plagued, "I dragged you down this path, the one that's forced you into this,"

"Stop it," he demands, his eyes are lowered, his hands are clenched, he's amazed the bottle in his hand has yet to shatter.

"I'm sorry he treats you like this," there's genuine concern in the hunters voice, the angel simply rolls his eyes,

"Don't Dean, because we've been here before, in case it's slipped your mind he used to be you, he used to look at me exactly like you do now, say the exact same words and we're still where we are today." They're staring at each other now eyes locked in a battle of wills and neither is willing to back down, Dean refuses to believe that they'll always end up here and Castiel can't comprehend a different life. There's heartbreak in Cas' eyes and Dean can't stand to see it there, they fall back into an uneasy silence,

He thinks back to the Castiel of his time, that harsh voice and cool exterior, the immense strength, that fire of faith that causes Dean to believe himself because how could you not when he's so sure. This Castiel is so different,

"What do you believe in Cas?" he has to know if there's still a trace of the Castiel he knows in this broken form, if he still has faith in his father, his brothers, a look is shot his way, it's dangerous and tells him to mind his own business and Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I get it Cas, I do, the drink, the drugs, the women, it's the zombie apocalypse and we never thought it would come to this, do you think I should say yes," the former angel rubs at his eyes, slams the bottle onto the nearby table and grabs the front of Dean's shirt.

"Why so that everything we did was for nothing, people will die if you say yes to Michael, millions of people, it might not be the Croatoan virus but it'll do the job just as well, if not quicker, a blink and 6 million gone. That's what happens if you say yes to Michael, there is no salvation that way Dean, no salvation here, but you... you've got the chance to change it, you're the only one that can change it," There is it, it shimmers in his eyes, a spark that was failing, all but extinguished, a glimmer of that faith that used to shine so brightly and after everything, all this time it still holds for him.

He's not sure why, not sure what brings them to this point but they're already so close, it's just a simple movement, a hand against the heated flesh of the other's face, the stubble is harsh against the palm of his hand and the angel looks all the world like a deer in the headlights, it's an expression he loves to see. He grips, pull's him closer and their lips are harsh and desperate and the gesture is instantly reciprocated, it's strange, different, Castiel's warm and needy his lips are chapped and skin is harsh, it's exhilarating.

There are hands on him, fingertips digging into flesh, he could have bruises there for weeks, for months, it doesn't matter. He finds himself thinking of his Castiel, standing on some street corner as the day ticks by and he wonders if he's realised that he's missing, that Zachariah is a tricky bastard, Castiel never lets him down, that's why he knows that at some point he's going to get out of here leaving everything to fade into memory, like a dream in the heavy light of morning.

Cas grinds against him and he forgets everything, chokes on a desperate moan, the angel is devilish in this light, his eyes are shocking blue, his flesh is warm and there is a slight sheen to it, he pushes the oversized shirt off the heated skin, across the slope of the shoulders, his hands trail it's progress, sketching across an expanse that has more scars than it should. It shocks him but it shouldn't, they're fighting a war and Castiel is not an angel anymore, he can't heal others, he can't heal himself, just good old fashioned skin grafting back into skin.

There are hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck, lips against his own and he can't refuse them no matter how much he thinks he should, or how many times he believes that this isn't him, he pushes himself against his angel and kisses with everything that he has, keeps going until he feels numb from the heat of it all. Castiel knows him like a book, knows just where to touch, where to kiss to drive him wild and he can't help wondering if maybe they've been here before, maybe it always ends up this way between the two of them. Castiel makes short work of Dean's own shirt, his hand folds around the scar that he had left on the others shoulder years ago, there's a spark, it's electric and there's a hint of his grace rekindling from the slightest of touches. There's still divinity in Castiel, he's too perfect for there not to be.

He cups the angel's face the soft flesh and the harsh stubble strange in the combination against his palm. He wants to take it all away, all the pain, the self hate, the doubt; he wants to save Cas from the torment of the human soul that he's been burdened with, Castiel is staring at him, bright blue studying him, almost as if he's peering into the hunter's soul. There is betrayal and hurt beneath the bright expanse of blue and Dean kisses him again because he doesn't understand and he doesn't have the words to take the pain away.

They spend the night in this way, gasping and holding, gentle touches, stolen kisses, until they're both naked and Dean's groaning against Castiel's shoulder as he enters him, until he forgets his name and they're just skin and bones, just going through the motions, until the apocalypse is a far cry and they're completely unaware of where they end and begin. Castiel is utterly breathtaking in this light, Dean watches him as he groans beneath him, his hair matted with perspiration, his teeth holding onto his lip eyes bright and heavy lidded, dark eyelashes kissing heated flesh.

It's much later, when they're both sated and the heartbeats have returned to normal, when Dean can breathe without feeling as though his lungs are about to implode, when he's pulled Castiel against him and his arms hold him tight. He runs his fingertips across the angel's back, navigating the vast expanse of flesh, there's raised lines, similar to scar tissue but smaller, more defined and constant and it's harsh black ink against pale flesh, he traces the design, the imprint of feathered wings forever sealed into the angel's skin and Dean smirks into Cas's neck.

When he stumbles out of the cabin in the morning his future self is stood just outside, arms folded and looking as though the world were collapsing a minute at a time and it's as though he _knows _what Dean did, as though it's more obvious than the sun in the sky.

"We've got work to do," and that's just before they head out on this mission that doesn't sit well with him, Cas drives and follows the others and they're trailing behind for a reason, Castiel is not stupid, he knows his time is limited, knows the end is coming, can feel it slamming into his bones and he wants those few extra seconds to sit with Dean, past Dean, and remember when all hope wasn't lost. It's Castiel's hand that captures the hunters in the heartbeat of the silence between them, when they're both questioning if this is it and his skin is warm, Dean can feel the angel's heartbeat through the slight touch and he holds back, tight, as if trying to pull him away, to hold him up, he wants to protect him but this isn't his Cas to protect and he's out of his depth.

Cas looks at him then, those stunning blue eyes that always cause his heart to falter, he looks resigned, ready, Dean tells him to turn the car around, begs, the angel chuckles.

"I always loved you, Dean," it's an admission that even now is difficult for the angel to understand, he's not sure he knows love, but he's aware that what he feels for the hunter outweighs what he feels for anyone else, he knows it's strong and unyielding and that the feelings are beyond him. He knows that he felt them all those years ago when he was still an angel and supposed to be unable to _feel _anything, he knows that the Castiel of Dean's time is confused and desperate, that he's punished by his brothers and abandoned by his father and the way he feels for the Winchester just makes things worse. "I will do anything for you; I will follow you anywhere, even when you're him," his eyes are shimmering with the beginnings of tears and Dean grips his hand that little bit tighter.

"Cas..." it's whispered, desperate, it's him begging, all but down on his knees because he's sent Cas to his death one too many times and all he wants is to save him now.

"I still believe in you Dean, you can still change all of this, it can be undone," the hand on the steering wheel is shaking, his knuckles are bright white and there's a stray tear trickling down his face, it slips across the full, perfect lips and tumbles into the other's lap and Dean kisses the side of his face, the barest touch of lips against the corner of his own.

"It won't end like this," there's conviction in the hunters eyes, the desperate plea for him to believe him, to trust him, that he's not that man up front leading this suicide pact, that he's the Dean he pulled from Hell, the one he convinced to fight. "I won't let it,"

He thinks Castiel believes it, he hopes he does,

They pull up still a distance from the others and as everyone else begins to bail from their vehicles Castiel grabs him and kisses him with everything he's got, Dean doesn't want to let him go.

It's the admittance from himself that horrifies him more than the plan itself, the idea that he _understands _he's sending Castiel to his death and that it doesn't affect him in the slightest. He's reserved to stop it, to save the angel and on reflection he should have seen the left hook before it hit him.

When he comes to, that's when it hits him, the feeling of his heart breaking and he runs until the sounds of bullets bring him to a stop, until he's on his knees and swallowing past the lump in his throat. The full magnitude of the situation crashes into him like a truck and the idea of those sparkling blue eyes flickering out of life swallows him whole.

It might be hours later, after the confrontation with Lucifer, after the argument with Zach when he appears on a street corner beneath a flickering street light, when he feels his heart mending once again.

"We had an appointment," the angel is beautiful as always and there's a gentle smile on his lips, warm and inviting and Dean manages to resist the urge to envelop him in a hug and crush the breath from his lungs. His eyes are sparkling and he bites his lip as his hand falls around the angel's shoulder, the heat of his companion bleeding into his palm,

"Don't ever change..." he's got more to say, a thousand words and a million confessions but he's content to just stare at him, that neatly cut black hair, the pale flesh and those hauntingly blue eyes that are sparkling with all the life the angel has to offer. Castiel merely continues to smile at him, as if in his own way he _knows, _Dean tries not to think about that too much, even when the angel grips his forearm and they appear in a motel room miles away from Zachariah. The angel stays by his side all night, he sits up on the spare bed studying a wall opposite of him, and Dean furrows his brow and turns on a television he knows the angel won't watch, he doesn't understand Castiel at all,

"_I always loved you Dean..." _the admission echoes in his head and his heart thunders to a stop as he studies his angel. The mere thought that this Castiel may feel that way about him is sobering, the angel glances over at him deep blue eyes calm and hypnotising.

"You will be fine, I will ensure your safety," he loves Castiel, there's no doubt about that and he's still mourning his death even when the angel is staring at him from a metre away.

"Goodnight Cas..." he whispers and tries not to remember the taste of his angel's lips or the heat of his flesh.

"Goodnight Dean..."

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_Ok well I hope you enjoy this and I hope they're relatively in character, let me know what you think, been wanting to right this for ages so hopefully you like it ^^_


End file.
